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Meow

Anyone with a small child finds themselves making a lot of animal noises. “What does a dog say? Woof. Woof.” That sort of thing.

The boy is quite happy with that. But he’s not so keen on random animal noises.

“Meow. Meow.” I said one day.

They boy became quite annoyed. “You not a cat. You mommy.”

“Meow.”

“You MOMMY!!!”

Like wiggling a loose tooth, I now find I can’t resist. “Meow,” I say. Often, but at (hopefully) random, unpredictable intervals.

He responds. “Fancy is a cat. You Ingrid. You not say meow.”

Meow.

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Down to the last bite

Another trip to Wimbledon Park playground, where they boy dashed between the fountain-cum-wading pool, the sandpit and the climbing frame – wearing nothing but a swim nappy.

We finished off with ice cream. He chose the ‘blue’ flavour, which is very popular among the youngsters. They call it bubblegum, but it didn’t taste much like bubble gum. Nor did it taste ‘blue’ whatever that might be. I tried a taste, but to be honest it didn’t come close to the delicious and tangy lemon ice I chose.

But Bill liked it well enough, he at it down to the last bite. The first time he’s ever done that.